


Deception

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Dark Days [10]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Deception, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sensitive themes, THIS WILL NOT BE FOR EVERYONE, dark!fic, evil Seth Rollins, triggers throughout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an empty feeling in his stomach. It was one that didn't come from the hellish amount of alcohol he had last night, the same that was now splattered across the hotel room floor. He didn't remember eating carrots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt:  
> Dean wakes up to an empty hotel room with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He finds blood on the bed and all signs are there. He's been raped. Problem is, all he remember is getting drunk his ass off last night. How he ended up in this predicament...he doesn't know. He's going crazy so he calls Seth for help (Who he ended things not too long ago and Seth isn't too happy bout break up but wants their friendship). 
> 
> Seth is all furious at first, but seeing how vulnerable and hurt Dean is he offers all the comfort he can. Trying his best to piece Dean back together. Dean is grateful for his friend. Only this particular friend has a dark secret.
> 
> Plot twist. Seth was the one who raped Dean. You can include Roman for a happy ending for Dean. Or whoever you feel comfortable with. Top!Seth of course.

There was an empty feeling in his stomach. It was one that didn't come from the hellish amount of alcohol he had last night, the same that was now splattered across the hotel room floor. He didn't remember eating carrots. 

No, this was a dark feeling, like something terrible had happened and he _should_ remember it. Problem was, he didn't. All he remembered was that last vodka shot and then cracking his eyes open in his hotel room with vomit covering the terrible carpet and a headache that could choke a horse. 

How had he even gotten back here? Why was he so goddamn sore? Had he gotten into a bar fight again? 

He winced and tried to turn himself into his back only to be stopped as a new wave of nausea hit him. Fucking hangovers.

The typical, scratchy, hotel sheets felt oddly cool against his skin. Realizing he was wearing no clothes, he started to think that maybe he had gotten lucky - rough sex could make you sore for sure. But there was no signs of a partner anywhere, though this wouldn't be the first time some girl had bumped uglies and skipped before he woke up. 

He needed a shower and Tylenol. Throwing off the sheets he jumped back in horror.

Blood.

There was blood everywhere!

It was all down his legs, on the sheets, even on his hands! Nausea gripped him again and he leaned over the side of the bed to dry heave at the sight. 

He needed to move, to get out of bed, just away from all the blood! He scrambled off the mattress and cried out as pain shot from the back of his thighs to his lower back. 

Phone…

He had to get to his phone…

Crawling on shaky hands and knees to the pile of clothes thrown haphazardly into the corner, he rifled through his jeans to find his cell. “C-call Roman.” He instructed Siri. 

The little electronic voice answered with a quick _Calling Roman Reigns_.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

“C’mon...c’mon...I need you!”

Four.

_Hey, you've reached Roman. Leave one._

Beeeeeep

“R-Ro. Something happened. I-I need help…”

He didn't even bother disconnecting the call and just let the phone drop to the floor. Fuck, everything hurt. Using the bed for leverage, he pulled himself to his feet somehow but had to steady his breathing as a fresh wave of pain hit him.he reached back to where the sharp ache was coming from between his cheeks and pulled his hand away wet. 

He stared at the blood on his fingers for a long time, not really sure what to do because his brain wasn't exactly processing information like it should. 

“F-fu-fuck.”

Next thing he knew, the floor was rushing toward his face at speed, then darkness. 

…

…

...

“Dean!”

He heard the voice, even recognized it. 

“Dean, wake up!”

It was seth, of all people. He could have wondered how he'd gotten into his hotel room, but he didn't care at this point. Cracking open one eye, he was even surprised to see the wide, worried eyes of the traitor looking down at him.

“Seth?”

Seth somehow managed to get him into a sitting position, though the pain in his backside didn't allow him to stay like that for long. It took some doing, but before he knew it, he was in the bathroom with a warm bath running and Seth fussing over him like he had before the betrayal. 

“What the fuck happened?”

In a sort of daze, Dean found it hard to answer...mainly because he didn't know the answer. “I remember the bar...then blood. I think...I think I may have been…”

Thankfully, Seth cut him off before he could say the word. “Look, we’ll clean you up and figure it out from there.”

Dean eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you even care?” He drawled out. “You hate me.”

Seth paused, maybe a little taken aback by the statement, but didn't seem upset by it like Dean would have expected. “I miss you, Dean.” Is what he answered with. Of course Dean would have been skeptical of this proclamation, and Seth seemed to sense that. “Ever since...well, you know, I've had no one. The Shield was the only time in my career I had people care about me and I want that back. I'm so sorry for what I did.”

Dean said nothing in response. If he'd learned one thing from Seth, it's never trust the snake. He was a liar, a scumbag, a deceiver. He'd say anything to anyone, do anything for - or to - anyone if it meant he'd have an advantage. But Dean let it go, for now. He was in to much pain, to confused, to scared to really care about his former friends problems. 

Seth helped him into the bath and gently -far gentler than would have been expected - helped wash Dean down, taking special care around his bruises and cuts and ass. When they were done, and the water was a sickening shade of pink, he helped Dean into a loose pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt before sitting him in a chair while he set to clean up the room. 

“Thank you…” Dean murmured, quiet enough that he almost hoped Seth wouldn't hear. Never give Seth anything, any weaknesses to use against you, that was key. But he had to say it because Seth had been nothing but gentle and caring in his moment of distress and fear. Far be it for Dean to not be appreciative of even the smallest gesture because of the roles were reversed he wasn't sure he'd be as accommodating. 

Seth stopped pulling the sheets off the mattress long enough to frown. “This should never have happened, Dean.”

He was angry now, a sharp contrast to the gentle Seth of a few minutes ago. “Whoever did this will pay! We’ll find them!”

Dean breathed out a small laugh. “Of all people, you're the one to pick me up.”

“Dean, we may have had our differences, but that doesn't mean I don't care what happened to you.” He said and Dean did get the feeling he meant it, but it didn't seem to sit right. Something didn't feel right about Seth. 

“I mean, one more of those kamakazi shots and I'm sure I'd be picking you out of some dumpster somewhere anyway.” Seth continued. 

That's when Dean's ears perked and a new suspicion began rising in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I said I'd be fishing you out of some dumpster some-”

“No.” Dean interrupted. “How did you know I was drinking kamikazes?”

“Don't you always do kamikaze shots?”

Dean shook his head, eyes locked with Seth. A dark realization was beginning to set in.

“Lucky guess then, I guess.” Seth chuckled. 

“We're you at the bar?”

“No! Why would I -”

“Don't lie to me Seth!” Dean shouted and Seth jumped slightly. “We're you watching me?”

The younger man sighed and dropped the bloody sheets to the floor. “I guess there's getting nothing by you, is there?”

Dean had just enough time to gasp before Seth was tackling him to the floor. He forgot how fast he was until the blur of color was shoulder tackling him to the ground and pinning him underneath him. Dean cried out at the impact. While he tried to recover, to take in a breath that had been forcefully drawn from his lungs, Seth already managed to pin his hands above his head and hold him still with his body weight. 

“You know, this would have went a lot smoother if you would have just let me fuck you!” Seth shouted. “Why you gotta be so fucking stubborn? Even drunk you're an asshole!”

“You're an asshole all the time, Seth!” Dean yelled, struggling now under Seth's leverage on him. “Get offa me!”

“Just relax, Deano.” He cooed, leaning over to lick the side of Dean's face. “The more you fight me, the worse it'll be.”

Seth's free hand began snaking down Dean's chest, making it to just above the line of the sweatpants. “You never left this hotel room, did you?” Dean growled. 

“You're smarter than you look lunatic.” Seth chuckled as his fingers slipped just inside the hem. “You're also an easy drunk, turning over so smooth for me, barely even fighting, taking pain like a good little slut should.”

Dean closed his eyes, bracing for whatever might come next. The pounding of his heart in his ears was so defining he could barely make out what Seth was saying until he suddenly wasn't there anymore, the weight of him wrenched off Dean like a sack of potatoes. His eyes shot open. It wasn't his heart he was hearing in his ears, it was Roman. 

“Call the cops!” He shouted at Dean already on Seth again, pulling him to his feet by his jacket and slamming him to the wall with a sickening _crack_. “You son of a bitch!”

“Roman! It's not what it looks like!” Seth tried to backpedal, clawing at the iron grip the large Samoan had on him. 

“It's exactly what it looks like!” Growled the much larger man, voice low and dangerous. Dean was still in a state of shock when Roman looked at him again. “Are you okay?”

Dean nodded, but didn't really believe it himself. Roman again instructed him to call the cops, and Dean did grab his phone.

But first…

He stalked over to where Roman had Seth pinned to the wall, reared back his fist, and slammed it into Seth's nose. The back of his head hit the wall and that was it, Seth fell like a stone to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Roman was on him in a flash, gripping Dean's shoulders to steady him. “Did he hurt you?”

Dean nodded. “He must have followed me to the bar. I drank so much I didn't even know what was happening. He...he…”

Roman pulled Dean into a tight hug, his very presence comforting given the situation. “I heard everything. Some was on that message you sent. He'll be going away for a long time.”

Dean just melted into Roman's chest, gripping his shirt for stability. 

Thank God for Roman Reigns.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ilzeth


End file.
